The Haunted Mansion
by PsychoShock
Summary: AU, ghost-story; Kurt and Blaine are off to England, enjoying the last weeks of their summer holidays. But what's nice and innocent in the light of day may turn out to be something more creepy in the darkness of night...
1. Prologue  What? England?

When Blaine announced for the first time, that they were going to England for the last week of their summer vacation, Kurt looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked confused, taking a small sip of his non-fat mocha, pushing another cup towards Blaine, as he sat beside him, kissing his cheek and grinning widely.

Café was filled with the smell of freshly-grinded coffee beans, and hot steam escaping from evaporating devices, sparkling against the sunlit ceiling. As every lazy Sunday afternoon, people were swarming beside the counter, ordering their favorite drinks and pies.  
>The boys were sitting at their usual spot, now deep in conversation.<p>

"Have I ever told you about our house in Wiltshire?" Blaine asked, undoubted excitement audible in his voice. He continued without waiting for an answer. "It's located in the South West of England. We do own an old Victorian mansion in the rural part of the county…"

_"Oh. Rural. How wonderful…"_ Kurt thought to himself, frowning a little.

"My dad's ancestors were Irish, but they moved to England years ago, even before my grandparents were born. This particular estate was the property of my great grandparents." Blaine explained, fiddling with his coffee. He let his finger mindlessly trace circles along the rim of his cup. "When they passed away, mansion, as well as its adjacent grounds, was inherited by my grandparents, but they decided to settle all the legal issues and fly to America. And so my family – the way you know it now – ended up in Westerville, Ohio." Blaine took a deep breath and sipped his beverage.

Kurt said nothing, remaining still in his silent shock.

"I can't understand it though! It would be such a terrible waste to leave this house completely unused." The boy added. "None of our distant relatives seem to be really interested in it…"

"Maybe because it's poorly placed?" Kurt interrupted him eventually, one of his eyebrows elevated. "And grossly old?" He added with emphasis, after a short silence.

"Even better." Blaine smiled mischievously and leant in closer to sound slightly more dramatic. "People from all over the village are avoiding it like fire. It is said to be haunted."

Indeed, the Anderson's estate was the main source of local gossips. It entertained the inhabitants who, despite being very eager to make up most unbelievable stories about it, were never brave enough to step through its gate, so for many years the building remained untouched.

Blaine burst out laughing expecting Kurt to do the same, but the boy remained silent.

Kurt might not be religious, not even superstitious, but all this paranormal stuff like ghost, demons and haunting made him feel anxious. He was never very fond of horror movies or telling ghost stories beside the fire. No supernatural things for him, thank you very much.

There was a time when he wished the ghosts were real. The vague vision of his mother, waving at him from the distance for one more brief moment, crossed his mind once or twice. But as he grew older, he'd realized mommy will never come back, and understood that no apparition could ever bring him anything more than pain and disappointment.

Suddenly Blaine's voice took him out of his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" He asked, when he finally stopped his chuckle.

"You want me to spend a week in dusty shanty, in some place where the crow flies backwards, to cap it all, in company of some wicked forces?"

Blaine frowned.

"I just want to spend the last week of vacation with my incredible boyfriend, that's all. Hey, Kurt, look at me."

Getting no response, he froze for a moment, staring at his boyfriend intensely.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of ghosts!" He blurted out, a small spark visible in his hazel eyes.

Kurt snorted angrily, shifting in his chair.

"Don't be ridiculous." He said, eyes fixed on his own hands. "It's like accusing me of believing in elves. And I stopped believing in fairytales when I discovered that Tinkerbell was in fact some obese guy, armed with torch and mirror…"

Blaine laughed, reaching for his hand under the table.

"Anyway, my parents decided to fly to England and visit this estate, first time since ages. It was supposed to be a _family trip_. I don't think they wanted to establish some more ridiculous bonding time with me or anything, but whatever... " He paused, feeling that Kurt squeezed his hand comfortingly. He squeezed back and continued. "Mom already purchased the tickets. And then, yesterday evening, father came home and told us that he'd got some 'very important business-related commitments', so he can't go." Blaine winced, trying to hide his disappointment behind the mask of indifference.

Kurt met his boyfriend's father once, when he was invited over to a family dinner. Ten minutes in his presence had convinced him fully, that Mr. Anderson was a very strict, uptight and reserved person, devoted to his work and duties, who would never take no for an answer. He was surprised that this stern, down-to-earth man was a father to feverish, artistic, dapper Blaine. His mother, on the other hand, although being equally practical and having both feet on the ground, was her husband's exact opposite. Her kindness and talkativeness easily made Kurt quite fond of her.

"All in all, we have a spare plane ticket, and my mom, to my endless joy, suggested taking you with us."

Kurt mixed up, already opening his mouth to say something, but Blaine silenced him with brief hand gesture.

"I don't want to hear this." He said emphatically." I don't ask you to take this ticket for free, you can repay me later if you insist." When their eyes locked, small smile formed on his lips. "But to be quite honest I'd rather you to accept it as a gift…But moving on, we'd spend two or three days in London with my mom, and then the two of us could go to visit Wiltshire…" He made a short pause. "United Kingdome awaits, sir, calling us by our names. Will you be magnanimous enough to grant my most ardent desire and visit it with me?"

England.

The gloomy land veiled by mystery on one hand, the country of fashion, colorfulness and variety on the other. A place he knew only from history books, movies and West End stars…

Kurt wasn't very pleased with the idea of staying in dirty, unused, terribly old house, but he only smiled and answered without thinking twice (despite the quiet sound of suspense in his voice):

"Only, if you give up this nerdy way of speaking." He said with a smirk. "You sound like Thad."

"Are you mocking me, sir? By no manner of means!"

Kurt nudged him in the shoulder, when they both giggled, finishing off their coffees.

* * *

><p>Burt pulled into the car park near the airport, his lips pursed into very thin line and eyebrows furrowed. Kurt glanced at him every now and then, during the ride. He had a nasty feeling that all this unusual behavior was leading straight into another <em>talk<em>. He sighted with that idea, realizing that his father was staring at him intensely.

"So, Kurt." Burt started, his hands never leaving the steering wheel. Kurt prepared himself for the worst. "I…Well, you know."

"Dad. I'll be alright." Kurt tried to smile. "Mrs. Anderson will be there too, remember?"

He decided to skip the part about Mrs. Anderson keeping them company _only_ in London and way back home. Just in case…

The man looked at him, eyes full of doubts, mixed emotions playing on his face.

"Just be careful." He said finally, opening the door. "I don't want to watch BBC all day just to discover you've been kidnapped and kept for ransom."

"Dad…"

He helped his son to take care of the luggage and escorted him to the main entrance, where Blaine and his mother were waiting. When they were only a foot or so before them, he placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder and muttered with strong voice:

"No _tent business_, understood?"

Kurt only rolled his eyes.


	2. Chapter 1  Disturbing Tune

The first sight of Tower Bridge and Big Ben, elegantly overlooking streets, crowded by the sea of people, made Kurt literally squeak with excitement. Every piece of traditional yet beautiful architecture, glowing in the soft daylight give him and the Andersons the feeling of mighty and strong Britain.

Sun let its rays pierce through the thin layer of grey clouds, making the weather pleasant, and not too sultry.

"It's a beautiful city, isn't it?" said Mrs. Anderson, smiling at Kurt's reaction.

"It's a city of Alexander McQueen!" replied the excited boy. "We're in the homeland of Stella McCartney, Vivienne Westwood, Paul Smith and…"

"Easy there!" Blaine laughed, honestly amused with his enthusiasm. "You're quite well informed, I'm impressed."

Kurt only snorted, while Blaine leaned in closer, whispering right into his ear:

"Can I get you some fashionable British souvenir then?"

The boy only clucked his tongue, his face flushed though.

"I think you can."

Blaine pecked him on the cheek, while his mother kept the polite conversation with a taxi driver.

After spending three amazing days in the capital city of England, the boys carefully packed their things and got ready to head to peaceful, green Wiltshire. They planned to get there by coach, and then catch a smaller bus, which would let them to their final destination.

Blaine was extremely excited about the whole trip, humming under his breath as he was collecting his stuff. Unlike him, Kurt was not very fond of… this kind of stuff. He'd much rather stay in beautiful, lively, fashionable London, enjoying theatres, music, night clubs and fashion stores. Fields, cows, green areas, small villages? That was not his world.

But he loved Blaine, and seeing that he was as pleased as a punch about the whole adventure, left him no choice but to silently agree on the whole 'let's visit this damn rathole' thing.

When their luggage were in the trunk, and they were about to enter the coach, Mrs. Anderson stopped them to said her goodbye.

"Be careful, boys." She said, kissing them twice on each cheek. "Remember to keep your cells on and ask if you get lost, ok?"

"We'll be fine, mum, we're not twelve…" Blaine said, mockingly.

"With your height? I wouldn't be so sure" Mrs. Anderson's perfectly shaped eyebrow went up, with a playful smirk.

Behind them Kurt tried, and failed, to repress a snort. Blaine glanced at him angrily.

"Mom!"

"I'm sorry dear." She laughed. "Anyway, stay safe. And we meet in a week!"

The driver honked twice.

"You better get in, boys." She said, making a step back.

"Bye, mom, see you in some time."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Anderson." Started Kurt, already entering the vehicle. "And again – thank you for everything."

"My pleasure. Have fun, honeys!"

After a few more minutes the coach left, leaving her alone, as she waved her hand in the last _goodbye_ gesture.

Leaving the town behind, the boys entered muddy, country road. Chain link fence separated actual track from fields, as well as trees, growing densely on the other side. It soon turned out that nothing could compare with wide hills of Wiltshire, glowing with the greenness of grass, spreading almost endlessly under the cloudy English sky. Even Kurt forgot for a moment about the inconveniences of the day, and let himself marvel the beauty of local village. Light wind brought the smell of distant rain, along with delicate chirping of songbirds. Everything seemed so peaceful, that boys walked hand in hand, remaining silent.

However, it seemed that Mother Nature's decided that this lucky condition shouldn't last, as temperature dropped, and wet cold mist started to flow above the ground. Kurt shivered, as he felt the humid cold soaking through his jacket.

"And an English weather we shall have…" he muttered under his breath.

After about forty minutes of marching, the shadowy figures of makeshift gate and drab houses emerged from the wet fog.

"Aaa, here we are…" said Blaine energetically, as they hurried through the main street, passing rather gloomy looking housing estates.  
>Houses, short and square, made mainly of wood and stone seemed lifeless and empty. All the windows, dirty and curtained, reflected grayness of rainy sky, giving the whole street the impression of poverty and isolation.<br>Kurt frowned briefly, feeling strange, certainly unwelcomed shiver rushing down his spine, but said nothing.  
>Far in front of the boys, towered old church with high, ivy-clad bell tower. Surrounded by a traditional graveyard, full of forgotten, moss-covered tombstones, looked like a perfect scenery for next horror movie production.<p>

"A jolly place, don't you recon?" said Kurt eventually, clinging to Blaine's arm.

"I know it looks kinda…" Blaine chocked. "Sinister" he said finally, with a small laughter. "But I'm sure we'll manage to have good time anyway."  
>Again, Kurt said nothing.<p>

When they finally reached Anderson's estate, he kept silent as well, only this time because of tiny hint of astonishment on impressiveness of the building.

There was no doubt, that years ago this spiritless building has been teeming with sumptuous life. Rooms full of polished wooden tables, Persian carpets and smell of fresh roses. People, dining every morning on fine china, silver and crystal. Sounds of old-fashioned music played in the drawing room, during small parties with neighbors. Kitchen buzzing with local gossips. But now all the windows remained curtained, porch undusted, grass in the garden uncut.

Blaine pushed the door, which have opened with a squeaking sound. They both stepped inside and stood still, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dimness of the hall. The only source of light was opened door behind them, letting the thin ray of daylight lay on the grimy floor. Blaine could feel Kurt stepping closer to his side. Still not saying a word, they got ahead, inhaling sour smell of wood and stone. Kurt instantly wrinkled his nose, apparently disgusted with dirt, visible all over the place. The walls were covered with drab floral wallpaper, peeling here and there, and even with the bad light they could spot spider webs hanging under the high ceiling. Room opposite to them, as well as the top of great wooden staircase, vanished completely in the darkness.

Then, out of the blue, the floor upstairs started to creak, as if someone was pacing it unhurriedly. Kurt, already tensed, jumped a little, squeezing Blaine's arm.

"It's a very old house." said Blaine to calm him down. "I bet everything's making noises like that in here."

Suddenly, the door behind them shut with a loud bump, leaving the two in complete darkness.

Blaine unlocked his phone and used its faint light to look around. Kurt literally attacked the light switch, toggling it furiously with loud clicking.

Nothing happened.

"Oh and the lights are not working!" shouted Kurt with high voice.

"Not a single bulb…" muttered Blaine some time later, after investigating each and every lamp in the house.

"Perfect!" Kurt sounded angry. "Simply _perfect._"

He felt Blaine taking his hand.

"Stay calm and don't worry, we'll do something about it." He said gently, smiling at him in the darkness.

Kurt was far from staying calm. It was like being tossed straight into one of Tim Burton's movies. And he didn't like it at all, that creepy Victorian house, with its long, narrow corridors, stained-glass windows and wooden surfaces, creaking bitterly with every step. Surrounded by equally dark and seedy garden, guarded by old fashioned fallen angel statue, which looked as if it was staring at him behind his back. The closeness of nearby church and vast graveyard wasn't the biggest consolation either.

The gloomy room looked even more evil, hidden in creepy shadows, created by the dim candle light. The air, filled with soft sounds of falling rain, smelled with dust of dirty furniture and wet fireplace. Maybe at daytime he could have somehow liked it, but at night, it was nothing but a horrifying nightmare. If only he could have known, that the worst was yet to approach…

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, watching Blaine putting last lighted candle on the top of ornate mantelpiece. He was cold and, although he would never have said it out loud, completely frightened. It was something about this building, or maybe about the secluded, rural area, that made him feel anxious and unsafe. He might have sounded childish, but he felt as if there was someone, or something, watching him, zooming in every dingy corner. The weather was not helping at all, as the harmless drizzle has slowly changed into heavy rain.

Blaine turned around, wide grin brightening his face.

"Perfect English weather, huh?" He said cheerfully, but his face fell, when he saw Kurt's expression.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh! I don't know. I'm jus not used to dark _shrieking shacks_ with no electricity, you know." He replied with dummy anger. "And to answer your question, no, this is not even a little bit romantic."

Blaine frowned, hearing the answer to his unspoken question.

"How did you know I wanted to say that?" he asked.

Kurt smiled shrewdly, not looking at him. After all he himself said he was 'not very good at romance'. Actually he was terrible, but after all this time Kurt found it rather endearing.

"Your eyes are like an open book." He raised his head, almost daringly. "You can't deceive me."

Blaine stepped closer, making his way through the murky room, careful not to bump into one of the dirty, antique furnishing.

"Is that so?" He asked, and placed hands on Kurt's hips, trying his best do look at him in the most seductive manner. "You too can be kind of obvious sometimes." He added, pulling him even closer.

Kurt only raised his eyebrow in a silent question. Blaine chuckled, and lifted up his chin, staring intensely into his boyfriend's face.

"All I can see now, is that you're uncomfortable and you feel like a character from one of Nick Cave's murder ballads." Kurt rolled his eyes. "But I have a strange feeling that I can do something to make you feel better."

"Try, I dare you." Kurt smiled, brushing dark curls off Blaine's forehead with one hand, while the other lingered on the side of his neck.

"We can play naughty if you want…" Said Blaine suggestively, looking him exactly in the eyes, and then letting his gaze drop to finally focus on his lips.  
>Kurt licked them, his eyes getting darker.<p>

"There's no one here, just the two of us." Blaine continued, his voice deep. He started to sway the other boy slightly, hands still firmly on his hips. "Parents, friends and their annoying gavels are miles away. It's just you and me. And we can do whatever we want…"  
>Instead of answering, Kurt unbuttoned his jacket and smiled, cupping Blaine's face with his warm, slender hands.<br>"I'm not sure if that's enough to make up for all this crazy stuff we went through so far…" He muttered, mouth brushing gently against Blaine's ear.  
>The boy shivered, exhaled heavily and giggled under his breath.<br>"We'll go shopping tomorrow, I promise." He could feel how every part of Kurt got excided with this idea. "My treat."  
>Kurt gave a short laughter and kissed him delicately. Both of them were always astonished that, although they've kissed before, every single contact of their lips seemed to bring something excitingly new. Kisses, at first unhurried and tender, have slowly started to deepen. Blaine could feel the heat beaming from the tiniest scuff of their impatient hands, while their lips and tongues danced together in fight for domination. Passion was rapidly growing stronger and stronger, with every sound of crumpling clothes and silent moans, escaping eager mouths. And the next moment they fell on the dirty carpet, making the clouds of dust rise and shimmer in the lambent light. One of Kurt's hands tangled in Blaine's hair, while the other was pulling the shirt from his trousers. Outside, the rhythmic thumping of the rain mixed with dreadful howling of the wind, which hit windows, making the glass tremble dangerously.<p>

Blaine pulled back, only to take off his half-unbuttoned shirt and help Kurt remove his sweater. Designer clothes landed abandoned on the floor. For few brief seconds the room was illuminated by the white glow of lightning, which crossed the stormy sky with a loud thunder.

"I can hear the thunder…" Blaine said into the curve of Kurt's neck, his mouth hot and open against pale skin.

He only growled in response, displeased that their lips ever parted.

"You talk too much…"

Suddenly the rain got heavier, splattering loudly against the mansion's walls. And again, the sound of mighty thunders hit the air, making the candle light flicker ominously.

But there was something else, some other sound, standing out among the fierce rumble of the tempest. The grim melody played on the piano, coming from the ground floor. Boys froze, feeling the blood getting cold in their veins. Kurt's eyes winded in horror, when he looked up at Blaine, the obvious question stuck in his throat.

_Who?_

But the door had been locked, Blaine has checked it himself! And even if someone really had dared to enter the old house, the creaking of rusty hinges would have had forewarn them. They must have been alone, _they must!_

But the muffled sound of an old, untuned piano was telling completely different story…


End file.
